


Closer to the Stars

by Lex_Noctis



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, Crossover, Drama, F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 02:44:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3711841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lex_Noctis/pseuds/Lex_Noctis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asami Lawson is Cerberus top officer tasked with keeping tabs on a promising Alliance soldier – Korra Shepard. When Normandy is destroyed and Shepard is on the brink of death it is up to Asami to bring her back. But what will happen when Korra opens her eyes? What will she do when their painful history comes to the forefront?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closer to the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: ME1. Otherwise AU, canon is mostly disregarded.
> 
> AN: Yes, I could not resist. It's all started with a tumblr picture of Asami Lawson by yukihyo. It was just Asami Sato in Miranda's white leather outfit, but naturally my imagination had gone into overdrive and, well... This is one of those ideas that kept persisting in my brain until I gave in and wrote this story. Another inspiration came in the form of an art piece from Ebi (almightyp on tumblr, look her up!). It was a full blown Korrasami / Mass Effect Crossover. So, yeah, now we are here. Hopefully, you all enjoy the twist on the familiar universe. This story is preplanned and scripted out. There will be four chapters in total with a fairly open ending.
> 
> Clarification: Miranda and Asami are not related by DNA. They have been created by the same two people (but not from the same genetic material) and Miranda was Asami's legal guardian for a time, but that's all superficial. Sisters Lawson was a cover story that they used for a while. There's going to be more info on their backstory later on. 
> 
> By the way, I wanted to give Korra a white space-hamster named Naga earlier on, but SR-1 had to be blown up and I just couldn't. No worries on that front! Although there will be plenty of angst from other sources. Enjoy the read and let me know what you thought of it!

_2183 CE: Shortly after the Battle of the Citadel.  
_ _ Location: Unknown. _

The enormous gas giant on the other side of what appeared to be glass shuddered and raged. Turbulent, stormy waves of boiling gas and flames rolled over its surface. Flares and prominences rose from the sea of plasma. The ball of light shifted its spectrum from brightly orange to steely teal across its immense surface where the gasses and elements emerging from its molten core changed and collided. It pulsed with life, power radiating from it in steady beats like an earning heart.

Within the seemingly endless room with its glossy, reflective floors and total lack of anything resembling decor aside from one lonely chair in the shadows and several holo-screens suspended in the air, within that room there were several people present. The mysterious figure sitting in the chair was for the most part hidden from view. Even the raging light from the giant star was not permitted to penetrate the thoughtful twilight that settled over the person sitting in the chair.

Right in front of the glowing ball of fire, behind several orange translucent monitors filled with constantly running numbers stood a woman. She was tall and lean, her figure perfectly accentuated by the white and black catsuit she wore effortlessly. Heeled black boots reached over her knees, the hexagonal patterns crawled over the white leather slithering around her toned form. Even her arms and hands were wrapped in protective fabric. And it was not just a uniform or a necessary coat of a scientist, no – it was a statement. Both attractive and functional it not so subtly screamed of the skills and authority the wearer possessed.

The woman let her long, silky black hair drape freely around her shoulders and flow down her back. It was pulled away at her left temple and fixed in place by two gleaming silvery hairpins. Her posture was lax and confident at the same time. When she spoke her voice was contemplating, but slight tinge of annoyance seeped though nonetheless.

“Shepard did everything right. More than we could have hopped for. Saving the Citadel - even saving the Council. Humanity has the trust of the entire galaxy...” she paused turning her head slightly to glance at the person in the chair. Her eyes blazed like clear, piercing emeralds and she pursed her ruby red lips before continuing. “...and still it's not enough.”

The agent turned back to observing the roaring fire of the ever-changing star with slightly narrowed eyes. There was a quiet buzz in the air behind her, but she did not move a muscle. Shimmering appeared in the space between the person sitting in the chair and the agent standing in the light of the star. The shimmer formed into a bright blue holo-projection of a man in his fifties. He was meticulously clothed in an expansive suit. The man could have been thought of as a hologram of someone from another station summoned on a conference call. He could have, if the QEC ring in the far back of the room was not deactivated. His steely blue, inhuman, synthetic-looking eyes shifted from one person to the next before he spoke in a lazy, self-assured voice.

“Our sacrifices have earned the Council's gratitude, but Shepard remains out best hope.”

Agent clad in black and white leather scoffed slightly at the comment. She send the holo a frown with a piercing look.

“You are here to advise, TIM. Not give your opinions or state the obvious. Does your VI programing allow for such unhelpful observations?”

“I apologize, Operative Lawson. My parameters can be adjusted at any time.” the man bowed slightly.

There was a quiet cough from the chair and both faces turned to the owner of the voice that spoke up next. It was leveled, calm in that special way that only supremely empowered people can achieve. What followed was a simple reprimand, firm, but not harsh in a satiny Australian accent. The person hidden in the shadows was a woman.

“Asami. The VI is annoying, but right most of the time. Shepard is the best option we have.”

The Operative turned to fully face the woman sitting in the chair. There was an apologetic and yet rebellious look in her green eyes. She strode towards the other woman passing through the glowing screens while expanding on her arguments.

“I know, she is. But they are sending her to fight geth. _Geth_.” the sway of Asami's hips was suggestive even as her eyes remained somber and serious. “We both know they're not the real threat. The Reapers are still out there.” she stopped in front of the chair shifting her weight on one leg and putting a hand on her hip.

Something gleamed in the twilight as the seated woman leaned to the side and smiled. “And it's up to us to stop them.”

Asami began to pace folding her arms over her chest and frowning. She ignored the male hologram as it surveyed both woman with intense artificial eyes stilled in an 'at ease' stance of the military – hands behind its back and spine straightened. When the man this shell was modeled after was alive he would never be caught behaving like that. He would never had been without his cigarette or a tumbler of scotch either.

“The Council will never trust Cerberus.” continued Operative Lawson. “They'll never accept our help. Even after everything humanity has accomplished.” Suddenly her features softened and she turned again towards the glowing giant accompanied by the endless starry night of the cosmos.

Her voice came out lower when she spoke next preceded by a brief, barely noticeable pause. “But Korra... They'll follow her. She's a hero, a damned icon. But she's just one woman. If we loose Shepard, humanity might well follow.”

Suddenly there was something fragile about the agent, like some thought brought out a vulnerability she did not want to show nor acknowledge. Asami hugged her middle taking a step towards the blazing fiery show once more. She heard the shuffle behind her, but did not move staring into the deep blackness of space. The absent gleam in her eyes was a veil, carefully put up barrier to hide the unpleasant memories she was reminded of.

The woman sitting on the chair stiffened. She leaned forward eyeing the other woman in the room with covert concern. Without taking her eyes off of the leather clad form she addressed the VI. Nothing in her voice could let anyone know what the powerful woman was thinking behind her professional mask.

“TIM, you are dismissed. I will need you at the progress conference of Cell 4 at twenty one hundred. Before you go, engage privacy mode for the room. I do not want to be disturbed. That will be all.”

The hologram bowed its head respectfully. “As you wish, Director.” It shimmered and disappeared.

The woman seated in the chair rose to her feet with elegance. Now out of the twilight surrounding the seat one could appreciate her features and striking beauty. She was considerably older than Asami, but clearly in her prime. Silky black shoulder-length hair framed her oddly symmetrical face, icy blue eyes were like magnetic pools of crystal mountain water. The lavender pink lips formed a gentle smile as she strolled towards the other woman. Her movements were even more graceful, radiating confidence and power. The Director was clad in a similar leather catsuit and over-knee boots, only this one was entirely made of back leather. A small white-gold insignia gleamed over her right breast along with several golden lines accentuating her voluptuous curves. She walked past the screens stopping directly behind the slightly shorter agent in white.

“Asami...” this time the Australian accented voice took on a tender note, sure and soothing. The woman in question sighed and hung her head in resignation.

“I know.“ she drawled. “I can not afford to show vulnerability, _we_ can not afford to make one wrong step. I understand that, Miranda. But... The way things ended with Korra... With Commander Shepard, rather. I have been keeping tabs on her for years. She is a hero, the leader we desperately need for the what is coming, but she is also a woman. Not infallible, not indestructible and certainly not unbreakable. _I_ should know.”

Black leather clad arms draped around her waist. The hold was both soft and secure. Asami felt the warm body pressing firmly to her back and instinctively leaned into the embrace. A hum escaped her lips as Miranda lowered her chin on her shoulder and the Operative's arms easily landed on top on the older Lawson's. It was calming to find comfort in Miranda's presence like she used to do for such a long time. Asami wondered for a second what would have happened if she did not try to find the _'other girl'_ her father slipped up about. Where would she be if she and Miranda had not hacked through all the layers of security and started talking? Asami would probably be still in the clutches of her insane from grief father and Miranda... Miranda would have been _replaced_ by hers.

A small shudder ran through her body at the thought. The arms around her middle pulled her tighter, closer to the heart beating against her back.

“You can choose not to take this assignment, 'Sami. I will not blame you. If it's too painful, I can find someone else.”

Asami let a bitter chuckle slip her lips. “And who would that be? Since you have been stuck in the position of the boss, I'm your best high level agent. That's a fact. You can not afford to give this assignment to anyone else for the sake of humanity. And neither can I.”

A heavy sigh at her ear rustled Asami's hair and tickled the skin on her neck. It was easy sometimes to forget that Miranda was not made of ice and steel herself. She did not let her mask slip, did not let anything slide. She was feared and respected, both well earned. No one in Cerberus knew about the woman underneath the persona, the calculating and efficient Supervising Director. No one except for one unique constant in her life. Asami was always allowed underneath the mask. That was the promise they made in the beginning, so many years ago – not have any secrets from each other.

The sigh was an indicator. Small tell slipping through the defenses of how stressful leading Cerberus was for Miranda. Seeing all the tiny shifting clues, organizing the big picture, managing the Cells, keeping the galaxy on its toes and guiding Cerberus just under the radar. It was all on her. And sometimes the hard choices could get to Miranda, like this time. Only now it wasn't about the future of humanity hanging in the balance – it was, it _always_ was, but what sprung to the forefront was personal. This would be the time they had to be there for each other.

“I will do it. It's what we have been trained for, isn't it? Be the silent guardians of humanity. Whatever the personal consequence. It has been nine years. Korra... She isn't that same girl who couldn't accept what I wanted to give to her for what it was. She has changed. We both have. I _will_ take on this assignment, Miranda, you can not stop me.”

Asami ran her hands along the arms holding her close. She put as much reassurance into the gesture making the unspoken invitation to talk apparent. There was another sigh and a barely there brush of lips at her neck. Then Miranda spoke.

“Listen, I understand that it would be hard to watch over Shepard after what happened between you two. I do understand that it must hurt. I wish I could shield you from that pain, but we both know the universe does not bend that way. And I'm sorry about that. However, I can not pretend to to feel for her the way you did. Korra is a great soldier, I can see her being the tip of the spear against the Reapers, but she will forever be the girl who broke your heart in my eyes. And because of what? Some ignorant notion that what you felt was wrong? You have the biggest, most loving heart I have known a person possess. You have found in yourself to love two people at the same time and offered that love unconditionally, with the same passion to me and to her. What kind of an ungrateful idiot she had to have been to throw that way?”

“Oh, Randa, level with me here.” Asami shifted in Miranda's arms to throw a questioning glance at her. “Did you never felt jealous of her? Especially after I told you?”

“Perhaps, for one moment. The moment right after you told me. Honestly, it did not matter. I never doubted your feelings for me. And if you had it in you to love more than what I am capable of, who am I to judge?”

Asami let her head fall in the comfortable nook of Miranda's neck, she nuzzled the side of her jaw with her forehead. Her body had turned sideways, now she was leaning onto Miranda, clinging to her in a moment of uncharacteristic vulnerability. She was annoyed and tired with herself, her own inability to move on. It seemed so counterproductive, so pointless as to be laughable.

“I have kept tabs on her personal life, you know. Korra haven't been with anyone since the Academy. Since she broke it off with me. Since I disappeared. Not once through all those years. I keep thinking... It's stupid. Why can't I get over her? Am I foolish in clinging to a small hope? I am, aren’t I?”

“No, dear. Of course, not.” Miranda placed a heartfelt kiss on the side of her temple. “The heart wants what it wants. I can vividly remember myself having that same argument. I tried so hard to keep you at arm's length when I realized it was not safe. That you were too incredible for me not to cross the line. There was a girl who convinced me to give us a chance, all the rational thought be damned! I owe that girl so much. She had changed my life in so many ways. You were that girl, you are that woman.”

Asami snorted against the apple-smelling skin.

“That girl grew up to be hopeless. I'm not that icon you put on the pedestal. Someday you'll see that and be disappointed. I suppose, that is my greatest fear – to disappoint you. I wish I could have been designed better.”

“You are perfect, Asami, just the way you are. Don’t try to change anything about yourself.”

“Perfect?” a hollow chuckle accompanied unbelieving tone. “That is the worst way to describe me...”

“Shush. Perfect does not mean flawless, my love.”

Miranda hooked a finger under her chin and pulled her face up until they could interlock gazes. There was something serene in the pools of icy blue, something indiscernible. Complex emotions and far off memories intermingled deep within her eyes raising to the surface and being drown back behind the curtain once more.

“I have been a slave to that word. _Perfect_. Perfect daughter, perfect heiress, perfect student, perfect piece of decoration to put on display. It haunted me in my sleeping and waking moments. I had defined my entire existence by that word, by fruitlessly aspiring to become something no one could. It was my personal curse. Until you proved that the word did not belong to my father. Nor did it belonged to yours. And neither did we. Now, it's just a word to me like any other. A word that I can use to describe you because it's true.”

Miranda dropped her head so that their forehead touched and the mask began to slip. The ice in her eyes melted giving way to the most welcoming ray of adoration. Asami relished that look, absorbed it with all her might. It was something to be cherished, something she never grew tired of.

“You have your flaws, my love, just like I have mine.” continued Miranda. “Those bastards wanted to make us impeccable, above what was possible and yet we are as much human as any of our species. You are at times stubborn and if you don't pay attention your temper could burn like a wild fire. I know I can be cold and unapproachable. But to me you are perfect. Not despite those little flaws but rather because of them. I love all of you – the good and the bad, I accept it all. Just the way you do with me.” she chuckled. “That is why I married you. Even if we can not acknowledge it publicly beyond this room.”

“I don't care about that!” as abruptly as it was extinguished the fire in Asami's emerald eyes was back in full force. “I don't mind the covers and life in the shadows. We both had signed up for this of our own free will. I would not have loved you any less or any more if we could go on a date or retire to Eden Prime and become farmers. None of that means anything to me.”

“I used to regret not being able to give you a normal life. Long ago.”

“I suspected as much. What changed your mind?”

Miranda leaned back a bit looking in the distance with a wistful smile. Up close Asami could see tiny wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, the imperfections were almost imperceptible. For anyone except her. Asami had studied every inch of this face, she knew all the lines and curves, every move of each muscle.

“When you came back from your first deep cover mission. Remember? The slavers trade ring. You were barely nineteen. You came into our quarters, annoyed and greasy. You discarded your awful rags and incinerated all of it on the spot muttering something about proper hygiene. You took a shower, took care of yourself, dressed casually, kissed me and sat down to properly clean your SMG and Omni-tool. I remember, you humming all the while. That was the moment I realized you never could have a normal life. Asami, we were always more alike and at times I did not see that. I wanted to protect you like Oriana, but I couldn’t.”

“Why?” Asami frowned raising her aristocratically thin brow. “Because I was not a baby when we escaped? Because I was already tainted?”

“No! Nothing like that.” Miranda smiled and was looking at her with fond thoughtfulness. ”Because I did not _have to_. There was no need. I have to admit, a part of me will always want to protect you, but I have came to terms with the fact that you don't need it. You don't need me or anyone else to shield you from the world. Or give you a normal life whatever that really means. You are brave and strong and capable. You can achieve anything you set your mind to. You choose your own path.”

“As do you. I haven't regretted running away with you or joining Cerberus. Least of all agreeing to marry you. I love you, Miranda and this is the life I had chosen for myself.”

There was a long, companionable silence while they stood in the endless room gazing upon the starry night. Such occasions when they had time for themselves were rare. Miranda spend most of her time tethered to the Cronos Station managing the Cells and numerous operations. Asami, being her top field agent, was send from one critical mission to the next, assignments that could not be handed to anyone else. It was not what typical teenage girls wanted from life – the fairytale glamorous life on Belkenstein or Illium gathered from romantic vids and celebrity gossip. This life was dangerous and hard, but also fulfilling for both women. After all said and done they did have what mattered most – their freedom and each other.

Asami broke the silence by speaking first. The vulnerable moment had passed and her voice was filled with amusement taking on a teasing tone:

“You know, they all intend on calling you the Illusive Woman.” Miranda could not suppress a short laugh. She did not like that title, but already resigned to being crowned with it. “Jack would have been proud. Or laughed in your face.”

“Probably both. The Illusive Man. Jack Harper, the man behind the mask. He was the soul and brain of this organization, I'm not sure I can do the same. Both of our fathers had been nasty pieces of work, and it’s not like Jack was an angel himself, but at least he had taught us how to be free. Even from him and without him. That is in a way far better than what we had.”

“Hmm... Better than our fathers? That _would be_ a challenge, right.” Sarcasm lacing that reply was palpable.

“He was no saint, he certainly was not above doing whatever it takes. After reading his unabridged manifesto, the first draft he wrote, I understand what made him the unflinching leader we knew. It was in his private safe. Old-fashioned printed out manuscript. Fifty pages long. He signed it as Jack Harper first, then he crossed it out and wrote Human Survivalist and crossed it out, too. The last words on the last page that were left were in his own handwriting. _'An Illusive Man'_. I came to understand why he adopted 'ends justify the means' philosophy, at times I even agree with it, but... There have to be limits. Guard lines. Boundaries no one should ever cross. I'm afraid even he, if confronted with a problem insurmountable for his intellect, would have faltered. That is why he is not here. And that is why a lot of his legacy in this organization had died with him. This is why Teltin and Trapdoor and Overlord have been discontinued. I agree with his ideals, sometimes I agree with his methods, but I am _not_ him.”

“You are _better_. No, don't argue! You are. End of discussion.” Asami paused mulling something over. ”Are you sure there are no more members of Kai Leng's splinter group left? Sleeper agents, deep cover operatives, pawns we could have overlooked?”

“Doubtful. The whole organization has been vetted continuously after his failed attempt at a coup. All he managed to achieve was killing the Illusive Man and sabotaging intermediate research before the fifth level contingencies kicked in. His followers had been ether killed by the automatic defenses or taken in by clean up teams. That cocky bitch Hope Lilium broke on the second round of interrogations like the rest of 'em. Given up the whole bloody insurgency. It was weak, really. Jack's pride was his own undoing. He knew Leng was coming, he thought he could manipulate him. Talk him down until my team had arrived. He proved he could not always be right.”

“I would have preferred to have been here. With you.”

“I know.”

They remained silent a few moments simply enjoying the time alone. Finally, Miranda extended her hand to pull out a holo-screen out of the air. They had just under two hours before Asami had to go back and the Supervising Director was scheduled to have a managing conference. The taller woman let out a disappointed hum pressing herself firmer to Asami. The lavender pink lips traveled down to her ear where a low, sultry half-whisper left them sending a shiver down Asami's neck.

“I want to have you right now.”

“What? Here? Now?” Green eyes opened up wide, but there was no denying how easily her pupils dilated with hardly suppressed desire.

“Yes, my dear. That reflective floor and the light from the star. I want to see you bathed in it. I want to savor every inch of your skin. Imprint every expression you make, every move of your body in my mind.”

“So you do find this room arousing?” Asami cocked her head letting a smug little grin play on her lips. “I had an inkling that was the case. What would Jack say?”

“Oh, you enjoyed pressing his buttons as much as I did.”

“Not as much as I'll enjoy unbuttoning yours.”

Their soft laughter was cut short as both women leaned into a kiss. It was tender and welcoming, languid but without any hesitation or doubt. Open, accepting, intimate in every way possible. Asami's lips slid against the other pair, nibbling and expertly changing angles yet when her tongue teasingly flicked the lavender pink upper lip, Miranda pulled back.

“Wait. Before we get distracted... There is something I wanted for us to do.” breathed out the older woman struggling to keep her famous composure.

Miranda untangled herself from the tight embrace and strolled over to her chair. She pulled her leather glove off her fingers and pressed her thumb to a seemingly random spot on one of the handles. Faint green glow light up ghosting through her fingers. There was a DNA scanner underneath the spot and after a quiet buzz a secret compartment in the back of the chair opened up. Miranda reached out pulling two intricately designed chain necklaces out of it.

She turned around to find Asami standing a step behind her. The hand rarely seen without protective leather rose up showing the twin chains hanging from Miranda's slender fingers. The links in the chain were small but gleaming of polished metal, bending in curves to give the necklace an elegant look. Pulled through the chains were four rings. Two masterfully crafted and engraved silver rings with a sapphire and an emerald and two simple gold bands.

Asami's face softened, her eyes traced the hidden treasure warming more with each pass. She had only worn the rings properly twice. Truthfully, it was never about tangible proof, there was no need for something that silly, but sometimes...

“I want us to wear them now. If only just for an hour.”

The clear blue eyes had found the bright green ones and Asami simply nodded and took both chains in her hands. Watching Miranda raising her hands to undo the front of her catsuit Asami wondered around her. She swept the black mane to the side and dropped the necklace with the sapphire ring to rest on Miranda's chest clicking the tiny lock close at the back of her neck. Then the taller woman mirrored her actions adorning the Operative's neck with the other necklace. Miranda wrapped her arms around her once again trailing a set of kisses along the curve of her exposed neck. Asami leaned into the caress absently playing with her rings. There was a calmness settling over her, a rarely experienced peace of mind that they both could only share with each other.

“There is a storm coming, Asami. The trial this galaxy had not witnessed thus far. And yet, somehow, at this very moment I don't care.”

She only hummed her agreement. Asami leaned closer molding herself to the other body.

“Dear, whatever happens, we will deal with it because we will face it together. There is nothing we can not accomplish side by side.”

The light of the star illuminated the room as always. It send shadows and flicks of light reflecting off the glossy floor. The hypnotic display of primordial power colored two bodies intertwined on the floor. Different shades of scarlet rolled over Miranda's skin like delicate silk. Oranges caressed her arching back, shifting limbs underneath her. A flicker of yellow licked their flesh once Asami had flipped them over and leaned down low to run her lips over the tempting collarbone. Blue was the color lazily roving their tired, covered with perspiration bodies as two women lay in each other arms. On the floor in the vast room shrouded in twilight.

An hour later it was empty, devoid of any movement. The floor polished back to its pristine reflective magnificence by automated systems. The secret compartment was sealed and nothing could give away that it was there.

The gas giant boiled and raged outside. Reds, oranges and blues. Swirls of fire and blazing of heavy winds. A part of unmovable cosmos, unflinching and eternal. It did not know what was looming at the horizon, not did it care. Neither did the most of the galaxy basking in its ignorance, shielded from the truth. The truth that had been discussed in that room not that long ago.

The Reapers were coming.

**. . .**

_2183 CE: One month after the Battle of the Citadel._  
_Location: SSV Normandy SR-1, Amada System, Omega Nebula.  
_ _Mission: Stealth Recon, 24th day on patrol for geth activity._

The captain's quarters were quiet, only the steady beeping of the terminal and soft breathing disturbing the silence. The conservative space was meticulously clean, orderly, to a degree way beyond of what was demanded by the military regulations. Equipment was stored in the lockers, desk and working surfaces pristine and free of even the normal clutter that comes with paperwork. The room gave an air of being barely lived in, like the person occupying it had just moved in. Or perhaps she was only passing through and did not want to make her living space look like more than what it really was to her.

Lt. Cmdr. Korra Shepard was sitting on the impeccably made bed in full gear sans the helmet that was left sitting on the floor next to her booted leg. Her shoulder-length brown hair was pulled in the ever present ponytail at the back of her head. Shorter bangs were dripping down on her face obscuring her forehead and framing her face on the sides. There was something in her hands, something that captured her full attention.

Shepard had a bad feeling about this mission from the start. Scouring the Terminus Systems for traces of geth? What a perfectly senile idea! All the geth that had invaded the Council Space had been destroyed at the Citadel and the ones that were left had stayed put beyond the Perseus Veil. No signs of them crossing it were found, and none will be. It was all no more than a distraction. A clever way for the ignorant and terrified Councilors to send her away, to bury their heads in the sad.

Korra knew it was going to be like this. She never had much luck in dealing with politics. Her first instinct was always to face the problem head on. Shepard had been raised with a firm belief that if one had the power to change things, to protect people, that someone had to do the right thing. That brash and noble attitude had carried her from the Academy to her own command. But she had learned a valuable lesson over the past year. The right thing was not always the smart thing to do. And so Korra was able to understand what she was doing out here, all the way in the Terminus. They wanted her out of the way. No more than an insistent and irritating reminder of the truth no one wanted to face.

The mocha skinned woman sighed. That feeling of dread hadn't left her ever since that eery conversation with the blinding red hologram of the Reaper. _Sovereign._ “ _I am the Vanguard of your destruction.”_ Those words had been rolling in her head for months. The Reapers were coming. They had stopped the first attempt, one soldier of the army. But the army, the legion of machines all with the power Sovereign had, were waiting for another chance to strike. In the mean while, where was she, the only one who truly knew about the impending invasion? Out here searching for something that wasn’t there! The sheer stupidity of her situation aggravated Shepard to no end.

But today was different. For some reason, Korra felt the unease take on a different form. Today she got up and immediately put on her armor. For twenty three days they had scoured the empty systems avoiding mercs and slavers and civilian transports alike. For twenty three days the Normandy did not find anything of value, no signs, no emissions or traces. And yet she felt like today was different. Perhaps, it was just irritation at the higher ups getting to her or, maybe, they will find something after all. Either way, this was the last straw. Shepard promised that this nonsensical fool's errand will end. She had to level with them, get the Councilors to understand, to listen. Even if she had to go back on her word and submit to the party line, that would be better than do nothing.

A low, dark chuckle escaped her lips. How _ironic_ , thought Korra. She wanted the others to understand when _she_ had been the narrow-minded one. After getting dressed and inhaling the tasteless military breakfast, walking her rounds to check on the crew, she found herself back in her empty, lifeless quarters. Thinking back Shepard had to admit it to herself that she did it every time she felt anxious or troubled over the years. There was a source of small comfort in the item in her hand, even if it was mingled with old pain. Now sitting on the bed she gingerly held the picture frame in her armored hands tracing the faces on it with her eyes.

The photo was of her N5 Academy class. It was taken a little over nine years ago. The frame was filled with grinning or stoic faces. All cadets dressed properly and standing at attention. In the middle of the front row was the head instructor – Commander Tenzin, a gruff-looking man with pointy goatee and shaved head. He was one tough hardass. Korra smiled fondly looking at the teacher. He was harsh at times but always fair and he taught her a lot. Not only the physical training, regulations and strategy, but what it was really to be an Alliance marine, better yet an officer. Korra did not remember her dad, he died shortly after she was born, still she imagined he would have been like Tenzin. Just as much of a hardass and just as proud to be wearing the uniform.

Her clear aquamarine eyes shifted a bit to the right. There was her twenty year old self grinning back at her from the photograph. The Korra there was very similar – the same toned muscles under the tightly fitting uniform, the same mocha skin and short ponytail at the apex of her temple. The same rebellious fringe messing up her forehead. Even the posture was the same. And yet there was something recognizably different about her younger self. It was in the bright blue eyes, the shining of that lopsided smile. The cadet looked happy back then. Joyous. The older woman sitting in the empty, too orderly room was anything but.

As always Shepard angled the picture and saw the true expression on her younger self. Back then she wasn't looking at the camera when the flash had gone off. Something else had magnetically pulled her eyes just slightly away.

In-between Korra and Tenzing there was another person, a young woman. She was wearing the same red uniform the older Commander wore with one bar of Technical TA on the left above her chest. The uniform could not have hidden the slim and graceful figure even if the owner wanted it to. Her dark silky hair flowed freely down her shoulders. Two silvery hairpins were fixed on her temple leaving one strand to hang below her ear. Her emerald eyes were gleaming with mirth and scarlet lips spread into a smile.

_Asami._

Even after all the years Korra's breathing hitched. That girl was the most beautiful, mesmerizing thing Shepard had ever seen and that feeling did not diminish with time however hard she used to try to put it down. It was wrong to have an affair with the TA, it was wronger still to fall in love with said TA, but that did not stop Korra from doing both of those things. Asami Lawson was perfect, more than perfect – _impossible_. Breathtaking, funny, understanding, intriguing and unbelievably smart. Her ascend through the ranks was quite a story. Being only a year older than Korra she already had accomplished far more than the young cadet could dream of. Shepard could not believe her luck when after a while of trying not to act on her feelings, trying to keep things professional and just be friends, Asami had approached Korra herself.

Being with Asami overwhelmed all her senses. Korra had never felt like that before or since. It was incredible, like a dream come true... and it shattered just as fast as it began.

Shepard traced the oval of the brunette's face with her finger. It was her own fault, Korra knew it now. It took a long time to fully understand, to come to terms with her own inadequacy, with how truly bonehead she was. She had tried to find Asami later, tried and failed. All she could confirm was that after Shepard had ended things, Staff Lieutenant Asami Lawson was relocated and assigned to a different outfit. A Black Ops project that was classified well beyond Shepard's clearance. She would never be able to find her, to tel her how sorry she was, how enormous of a mistake she had made. The only reminder of that time was this photo.

Korra groaned through gritted teeth. The guilt of what she had done... That will just have to be a burden she has to live with. What she was offered could not be replaced and the knowledge that Korra had ruined it herself was what kept her down most days and... Strangely it was what made her strive forward twice as hard. In the beginning she wanted to prove to Asami, to herself, that she could be better, could be the model soldier others viewed her to be. Later it became an obsession. Drive to be the best, to snatch a reward from the cruel fate and change her life again. And finally it became who she was.

Famous leader, the Avatar of Elysium – brave and heroic, adored by her peers. Yet not all of it was true. Yes, Shepard was proud to wear the uniform, she would gladly give her life to protect others, but that was only half of the story. The other half was a lie. They all believed her to be happy, content with who she was and what her life had become. That could not be further from the truth. Her life was hollow. The altruism and her job could only fill the empty void in her heart for so long. Korra had immersed herself in her work, her responsibilities, her duty and elated feelings of having a job well done. To be standing for something, something that felt right. At least it used to.

But at the end of the day she would come back here. To a room just like this one.

Sterile. Lifeless. Pristine. Cold.

This was never a home, it was just a place to store her things, get some work done and grab a few hours of shut-eye. The only warmth she had in her personal life, outside of seeing the people she had saved and the comrades she served with, was this frame. _Comrades, huh?_ Korra suddenly chuckled and addressed the picture. Her voice sounded hoarse from staying silent for a long time and she had to cough and swallow to get the words out.

“You know, that shy asari archeologist I told you about has a crush on me. It's kinda cute I guess. I'm certain Williams is still giving me the doe eyes behind my back when she thinks I won't notice. I even feel a bit sorry for those two. They don't understand. Hell, _I_ didn't until it was too late!”

Shepard slumped lower, her hold became tighter on the photo clutched in her hand.

“You were always the one, 'Sami. There was never anyone else.”

A lonely tear had fallen on the smiling faces in the frame. Korra didn't seem to take notice.

“It is so stupid to be talking to a goddamned photo! I know that. I'm not completely crazy. But it's the only thing I have left of you. Fuck, whatever! We can all be dead come next year if the Reapers can find another way to our galaxy! What a bit of talking to myself in the face of that?” Korra let out a sad laugh and another drop landed on the frame. “I'm so sorry, Asami. I wish I could have found you. I know I have lost my chance to make it up to you forever. But I will never forget. _I can't._ I–”

The sirens drowned out the next words out of Shepard's mouth ringing with alarming intensity. The floor tilted under her feet and the ship had shaken in a series of violent shudders. The dynamic was bellowing the standard drill instructions over the rhythmic wail of the siren.

“ _We are under attack. This is not a drill. Action stations. Brace for evasive maneuvers.”_

The ship shook again, this time the tremors were harder sending furniture sliding on the floor and small items flying off her neatly arranged desk. There were faint sounds of explosions coming though the walls despite the soundproofing of the captain’s quarters. Korra bolted upright, let the frame down on the bed – under the pillow as if that could protect it from whatever was attacking the ship. If kinetic barriers and armor appeared to be useless what a pillow could possibly do? That doesn't matter though, as Shepard was in her battle mode already. She grabbed her helmet off the floor and rushed out the door. The fire controls were the first item on the list. Evacuation – second. Her intuition did not fail Korra this morning. This _was_ the last day of this idiotic mission, they _did_ find something! Or rather something had found _them_.

The door hissed shut after her. The mechanical locks had not been compromised yet and the room went silent for a short while. The frame was lying on the bed undisturbed as the room shook from far off rumbles. Then, with a searing flash all the silent calmness was gone. Golden energy ray burst through the opposite wall sending the furniture flying. The desk is incinerated in the blast, armor locker bend out of shape and primed open. The weapon stopped leaving a huge hole in the bulkhead, a rupture all along the inner hull of the ship. Exposed wiring flickered sending sparks everywhere among the whooshes of air being sucked out into open space.

The pillows and blankets, little items that survived the blast lift up and float away. The photo frame untangles from the pillow case between the decks, it floated along the ruptures in the Normandy's hull leaving the ship altogether. The photograph is encased in a sturdy frame, it is drifting in the vacuum, floating past the huge hole in the hull. It's reflective surface catches the light show as the proud ship falls apart.

There are escape pods leaving, barreling towards the surface. Red lights glide over the smiling faces in the frame. Fires and the oval of the icy planet below. Everything can be reflected in the lovingly polished glass. Chunks of armor fly past and perhaps it’s just a curious play of the light, but it looks almost like the bald Commander with a goatee in the picture had shed a tear for the beautiful frigate.

The frame rotated around to face the looming monolithic cruiser of unknown design looming over the descending wreckage. Reflected in the glass was another flash of yellow light. It traveled fast illuminating the happy faces of the group shot. It grew closer, gotten brighter. On its way to the target it found a pretty face in the center of the first row adorned with long black hair and ruby red smiling lips. It danced in the green eyes and for a short millisecond they are almost alive. Yet where was supposed to be mirth among emeralds, there was abstract horror instead.

And then the picture frame was gone.

Nothing remained of it except for the ashes floating in the blackness of space.

 

 


End file.
